


Aji

by chaineddove



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Community: fifthmus, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/pseuds/chaineddove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akari has a terrible crush on her go tutor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aji

**Author's Note:**

  * For [troisroyaumes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/troisroyaumes/gifts).



> Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I have no words for the amount of awkward I feel about this. I am told that this is not nearly as awkward as I think it is, but you can be your own judge of that. Written for [fifthmus](http://fifthmus.dreamwidth.org) at the very last moment on a whim (and maybe due to some chat enablement), so I beg you not to judge too harshly. A gift for fandom at large (because, I’m told by everyone and their mother, “fandom needs more lesbians!”), but based on one of the prompts by troisroyaumes.

“But then, just when I thought it was over, he connected in the lower right. I tried defending here, then here, and then…” She places the last stone and admires the formation on the board. “It was beautiful,” she says, her eyes sparkling, her smile dreamy.

“Beautiful,” Akari echoes distractedly. To her, they’re just stones on a board; she isn’t nearly good enough to appreciate the apparent genius of the lower right formation, but she’d had to be blind not to see the beauty of that smile.

“Of course,” Nase says with a self-deprecating little shrug, “then he creamed me by about seven moku, which was extraordinarily embarrassing, even if I couldn’t really feel bad about it – not after _that_ hand.”

“Uh-huh,” Akari says. She’s not really listening, but she does watch Nase’s hands intently as she ably separates the stones, clears and rearranges the board. Her wrists are slim, her nails always bare of polish and short. Her movements are efficient but elegant. Akari thinks she could watch just her hands all day.

“So,” Nase says, laying out a simpler formation, “the reason I wanted to show you this…”

Akari lets the words fade into a pleasant background noise and just watches – the sure movements of Nase’s fingers, the curve of her lips into a smile, the smooth skin of her cheeks, the chestnut shine of her hair, the rise and fall of her chest under the ever-so-slightly-too-tight white sweater which dips low enough to leave her collarbones bare.

She’s pretty sure she has a problem. She’s also at a point where she can’t entirely _care_ that she might have a problem.

Okay, so maybe she’s paying for lessons – when she could probably have them for free from the genius down the street, whose play is apparently beautiful and gets Nase all flushed – just to stare at her teacher. If she is, she’s just going to have to live with that fact. She can’t _not_ stare.

Nase smells like mandarin oranges and snow. Akari is fairly sure that was the start of the problem – the lingering scent, sweet and sharp all at once, bright with citrus and cool like a winter evening, taunting her until she can’t help but wonder if that is how Nase’s smiling lips might taste, cool and spicy and sweet. Yes, she thinks, if it wasn’t for that perfume – shampoo, soap, _whatever_ it is – she could keep herself under control, surely. _Surely_. (She’s tried everything she can think of to make her pillowcase smell that way, has buried her face in it night after night, and still, it doesn’t quite work, and it certainly doesn’t help; three weeks in, and it’s all she can think about, the scent, the imagined taste, the feel of Nase’s long, calloused fingers against her face.)

“Try it,” Nase says, snapping Akari out of her reverie; she’s sure she’s redder than a tomato as she drops the go stone she’s been worrying between her fingers.

“I…” she says, and then can’t continue. There is absolutely nothing to say that is remotely appropriate. She looks down at the board, and it takes her a few moments to translate the pattern of lines and stones into something she can process. “What?” she finally asks, hopelessly.

Nase laughs, the sound bright and open, so unlike the high-pitched, simpering giggles of other young women their age – and Akari doesn’t know why she finds even _that_ alluring, but the fact is that she does – and tells her, “Don’t worry, this version is simpler. Look.” She motions at the arrangement of stones in the lower right. “In this situation, you want to connect, right?”

“Yes,” Akari tells her, and _yes_ she wants to say, connecting is _definitely_ something she’s spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about lately, which is probably why her game hasn’t improved but her dreams have gotten much more interesting. Attempting to focus, she diligently studies the board, the insidious encroachment of white stones splitting the two black groups like a seemingly impenetrable wall. “That group in the corner is dead,” she says at last, shaking her head, feeling very certain; there is no way she can see except to abandon it an attempt to make up for the loss elsewhere.

“Hmm,” Nase says, tilting her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “it certainly looks pretty hopeless for black. But if you just give up now, you’ll never know, will you?” Akari has spent several weeks studying Nase’s expressions; this one, with her teeth catching her lower lip for a moment, the dip of her eyelashes over her cheeks, is _undeniably_ new. “Besides, I’m telling you there’s a chance. Are you going to believe me?”

Akari really, _really_ wants to be brave, to demand, _are we still talking about go?_ , but she isn’t forward that way, has never been forward that way, doesn’t begin to know _how_ to be forward that way. All she can do is stare, and try to figure out if she’s hearing what she thinks – hopes – she’s hearing or if the scent of mandarin oranges and snow and the tight white sweater and Nase’s wide, unabashed smile have finally driven her over the edge. Aside from that one brief moment of unexpected departure from her usually open demeanor, Nase’s face gives nothing away; Akari stares at the board instead, at the two separated groups of black stones and the wall of white winding between them. She tries to remember what Nase showed her earlier, but she was too busy looking at her hands then, and now that it feels like the answer means the difference between a very real and tangible happiness and a continuation of the status quo, she cannot bring it to mind. “I believe you,” she says after another few minutes of frantic searching, her hands fisted on her lap in frustration, her voice plaintive, “but I can’t find it.”

Then suddenly she feels the warm stir of breath against the side of her face, and Nase’s hand is on her wrist, guiding it, placing the stone – bold, daring, and yes, Akari thinks, she’s right, it’s _beautiful_ – and it’s like the whole board has opened up to possibilities she would never have found on her own, but she thinks she can see them like this, with their hands connected like the two separated groups of stones are suddenly connected, unexpected and strong. “I’ll help you,” Nase says, her voice low against Akari’s ear. Her scent , sharp and sweet, is everywhere, and if Akari leans back just a little they can touch – are touching – and her heart is going to burst out of her chest any moment, she knows it, but she just doesn’t care. “See?” Nase says, a smile in her voice. “Now it’s easy.”

Akari doesn’t say anything, but she does turn her head, and then they are nose to nose and Nase is giving her an expectant look, and even though they are talking about go they are also _definitely_ not talking about _just_ go, not anymore; and then it _is_ easy, it’s just momentum, or maybe gravity.

Their lips touch, light and tentative.

When they pull apart, Nase is still smiling. There is a jumble of thoughts running through Akari’s head, and she fears she’s liable to blurt out any one of them, perhaps, _how long?_ or _please tell me you’re not just humoring me,_ or even just _wow_ ; instead she says, “I’m _never_ going to forget that hand,” which is a fairly ridiculous thing to say, but Nase’s smile widens, so it’s also apparently the right thing to say.

“Good,” Nase tells her with a decidedly promising glimmer in her eyes. “Now, let me teach you another.”


End file.
